


When The Music Stops

by waferkya



Category: Political Animals
Genre: 1x02, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waferkya/pseuds/waferkya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sitting there behind the piano, playing at Douglas' engagement party, — that's both the best and the worst thing T.J. has done in a while.</p><p>(Mild hints to twincest implied! They're very mild, and just hints, but still.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Music Stops

Sitting there behind the piano, playing at Douglas' engagement party, — that's both the best and the worst thing T.J. has done in a while. Yes, it beats at once stealing a check from his grandmother _and_ the mind-blowing sex he had with that triathlete the other day, and wasn't little Dougie always the overachiever anyway.

T.J. looks up from the keys for a second, sees his brother cradle his soon-bride-to-be, and he can't help but smile a little. Douglas is wonderful in his tailored suit and that terrible, horrible, adorable shirt which is blue and also gray and also has a random cheap pattern on it and oh God, you don't have to be gay or a fashion icon to see just how wrong that is, especially for an egagement party, but Douglas manages to pull it off anyway, probably because when you have a smile like he does, there's nothing you can't do. T.J. wouldn't know.

It's his little brother's big night, and T.J. is doing the only thing he can really, truly do well — he's playing the piano for him, and he's not screwing that up. Maybe Anne is going to hate him a little less after tonight.

Maybe not.

*

They put on one of Dad's all records, almost an hour later into the evening, right about the time T.J.'s fingers had started to feel so numb they might've as well just fallen off. The music is a somber, quiet melody, with smoky jazz-like notes and smooth movements that make Nana tear up a little, or maybe it's the vodka, you can never really tell with her.

T.J. sits behind the piano for a moment longer, just watching his brother's guests — mostly it's people he doesn't know, and who don't really want to know him, — some of them dancing, the others shuffling around the room, amiably making small talk, eyeing the lovebirds, but his Mom and Dad get just as much attention, if not maybe a tad more because c'mon, it's former President Bud Hammond and the Secretary of State dancing like teenagers at prom to some obscure, wonderful song.

A smile — a real one, happy and sated, — finds its way up to T.J.'s lips and his eyes; he gets away from the piano and joins the crowd of non-dancers. He keeps away from the conversations, though, just tip-toeing around the edges of the party because that's his place, anyway. He's here as the twin, screw-up brother of the groom-to-be, they let him play the piano because you have to let kids entertain themselves but that's it.

Pretty soon he's getting himself a drink, but he sticks to the non-alcoholic, healthy stuff Dougie would pick. One of the waiters — Jesus, he'll never get used to the wandering waiters, no matter how many of these happenings they make him go to, — tries to refill him with something that definitely smells like expensive bourbon, but T.J. smiles and covers his glass of ice and orange juice with a hand, shaking his head.

Douglas can't keep his hands off Anne, and she's gorgeous and radiant, but Douglas' eyes, and all of his attention are for Mom; typical. He's looking out for her, T.J. realizes. God only knows what else she did this time, but Douglas is clearly worried. Dad is probably involved in whatever's going on, judging by the way he seems to be back into Mom's good graces, without an actual reason, as far as T.J. knows. But, he has to admit, it's not like he really knows much about his family anymore, these days.

Hell, he barely knows enough of himself to recognize his face in the mirror when he wakes up.

Once in a while, though, Douglas lets his eyes slip off from their parents, and then, without fail or any sort of effor, his gaze meet T.J.'s, half the room across from him. It's not exactly unusal for them to just find each other, they've been doing this since forever, but T.J. feels like it hasn't happened in a lifetime and, whenever it does, he can't help the happy warmth that loosens a little the knot in his throat.

The smiles T.J. offers to his brother have always been, in a way, softer than all the others he has. And they're more honest, too; he's used to hide himself behind the upwards curve of his lips, but Dougie always sees right through that, whenever it's a lie. And T.J., in all honesty, has never — not even in his lowest, emptiest moments — been able not to feel stupidly giddy when he looks at Douglas.

*

T.J. gets to dance with his mother, with his grandmother, and even a couple of giggly girls he has never seen before in his life, who are brave enough or tipsy enough or maybe both to willingly go to him, touch him, drag him to the middle of the room, oblivious to the fact that he's a ticking bomb on legs, a deadly virus walking amongst men to spread vice and disease and death and pain.

Oh, wait, that kind of thoughts are exactly what his therapist once warned him about. Right.

Then there's only a few, resilient guests left, close friends of Anne's, when T.J. finally works up the courage to walk to his brother — still holding fast at his fiancée's waist, like she could ever be strong enough to keep him from falling and crashing down spectacularly, but really, that's just the jealous part of T.J. speaking, Anne is _wonderful_ , and more than that, Douglas loves her, — and blink up at him.

Douglas doesn't get it immediately, but one of Anne's friends elbows at him and then there's a slow dance playing and T.J. tip his head slightly to one side and his smile grows fonder and Douglas finally sees where this is going.

He doesn't like it, he doesn't like it _at all_ , T.J. can tell from the way his eyes go huge and round and scared, but it's not like he can do something to stop it.

"Oh, no," Dougie tries, but T.J. laughs and grabs him by the wrist when Douglas reaches out ot bat his hands away.

"Be brave, little brother," T.J. teases, and then he's got Douglas away from Anne, away from everyone except him, and he slips an arm around his narrow waist, takes his other hand in his. He presses against him maybe a little bit more than what would be strictly necessary, but Douglas just huffs and pushes back. He's exactly where he belongs, and he laces his fingers with T.J.'s, starts rocking them slowly and unsteadily to the rhythm of the song.

T.J. doesn't want to think about his brother's hand on the small of his back, but that's what his entire world seems to have shrinked itself to. That touch, and Douglas' heart knocking against the hollow half of T.J.'s chest.

T.J. giggles, nuzzling right beneath the line of Douglas' clean-shaven jaw.

"T.J., are you drunk?" Douglas asks, a little tense. T.J. hugs him tighter.

"I'm perfectly sober, Dougie, and you know that because you've been watching me all night," T.J. says, grinning.

Douglas ajusts himself in his grip, and he's lean muscles with the slightest hint of curves where T.J. is bony and sharp, and they're a perfect fit.

"Right, I was just asking."

"Hmm," T.J. mumbles, distracted by the soft swinging of his brother's hips.

They dance through the rest of the song, and then the one after that, and then Dougie has to wave his guests goodbye, but his hand lingers on the small of T.J.'s back before he steps away.

*

Dad good-naturedly hugs everyone, even T.J., with his usual, adorable pomposity; Anne's parents leave with him, and then Nana distracts T.J. long enough with one of her drunken remembrances he doesn't notice right away that Douglas and Mom have yet again slipped away to plot God only knows what coup d'état.

When they get back, Douglas looks troubled; T.J. tries to read his mind, but that's never worked before and it doesn't start working now. Mom hugs him tight, kisses him twice on each cheek and then she's all over the lovebirds and then she's taking off, dragging Nana with her.

That leaves T.J. alone with Douglas and Anne, which is great, except it's not. T.J. tries to remember the twelves steps; he fails, so he just takes a deep breath and hopes for the best, quickest escape ever.

Anne is quicker even, though; she excuses herself, kisses Douglas' cheek, and then vanishes behind a corner. T.J. blinks at the red shadow of her dress, taken aback from the speed of her retreat.

Douglas must read that thought on his face, because he laughs a little, pushes T.J.'s shoulder playfully.

"Cut her some slack," he says. "She's had a rough day, you know. She deserves to be out of that dress and those heels."

T.J. blinks a little more.

"Yeah, no, you're right, I'll cut her all the slack she needs, really," he rambles, and Douglas smiles. They're standing in the middle of one of the most expensive suites in the State and T.J. realizes, to nobody's suprirse, he doesn't want to leave.

He's going into rehab first thing in the morning, he knows that; he _promised_ that, and he never goes back on a promise, especially not one he made to his _twin brother_ , Jesus Christ.

He didn't promise he'd happy about it, though, and sure as Hell he didn't promise he'd ever want to go back to his empty shell of a house, especially when his baby-by-three-minutes brother is standing a feet and a half from him.

T.J. can still feel the warmth of Douglas' body and the firm shape of his chest pressed against his own, but the soft drum of his heartbeat is gone and how the fuck can he live without it.

Douglas looks up at him from under his lashes, and T.J. feels he's crumbling.

"Can I— Dougie, I know it's the night of your engagement party but. Can I, can I stay?" he blurts out, before his innate cowardice overcomes his just as innate need to keep his brother as close as he can, possibly close enough to suffocate them both in each other.

Douglas looks actually relieved to hear him ask that.

"Yeah," he breathes out, his face going soft and warm and fully happy for the first time all night. "Yes, of course, there's actually a sofa and a TV in the other room, this place is insanely _huge_ , I swear to God I could get lost in here, c'mon, let's go."

T.J. should point out that Douglas' fiancee is waiting for him in their bedroom; he should tell him it's fine, he can find his way to a sofa and to some random blankets to sleep in. And he should swear it's perfectly okay, he can go to sleep on his own, and yes Douglas can switch off the lights and he and Anne can even have their perfect sex, as far as T.J.'s concerned, he doesn't really mind.

He really, really should; he's not ever been that good at doing what he should, though, so he just grins and follows his brother into the other room. And when they settle on the couch with ESPN buzzing in the background, Douglas a long line of heat pressed against T.J.'s side and T.J. a long, _long_ line of heat pressed against Douglas' side, that's the closest to honest-to-God perfectly, fucking ecstatic T.J. has ever been all his life.

He tilts his head to the side, pushing his nose to the line of his brother's jaw; Douglas slips an arm around his shoulders, and he doesn't say anything when T.J. snuggles against his side and drifts off to sleep.

Anne keeps waiting.  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm very happy with this show because it feeds my shippy feelings like it's nobody's business; I know it's only been two episodes so far but djdhgsghajdlfhgf yes. I like it. I hope you liked this as well! (Someday I'll find the time to actually answer to the wonderful comments I got on the other oneshot I posted, I swear; in the mean time, thank you so much everyone!)


End file.
